


Dependence

by Kanin0



Category: MLAndersen0, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, Canon and OC characters - Freeform, Depression, Hope you like!, I'm definitely in love with this ship now, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Made this for irrermitplan :), Maybe - Freeform, Starts out pretty sad, Trying to make it very serious, and some rabbits, i added sully from schadensvoid, there might be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanin0/pseuds/Kanin0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah thought he was alone, that nothing could help him after the last bits of family he knew died off. He thought it was over, and that he had lost.</p><p> </p><p>Until a small trinket shows up on his doorstep. Almost immediately after posting it on the internet, he is tasked with finding someone, for none other than HABIT. Noah doesn't realize that this one little request HABIT has given him will change everything, and in Noah's mind, that's a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was around 3:00 in the morning.

It was still dark out in the humid, warm air, and it was completely silent out in the streets. There was no wind, no rustling of the trees, and no splashes of waves along the shore. It was almost as if time itself had been frozen.

In a small neighborhood in the Florida suburbs, there was a man named Noah Maxwell.

He didn't look very good, with curly, greasy black hair, pale skin that hadn't seen the sun in months, and tired, chocolate colored brown eyes. His breath smelled of gin, and he was rather thin.

Dealing with the Collective had taken a new turn. Noah never thought it would happen. Never.

But it did. Just a week ago, Noah had woken up to find the police at his door. Noah thought he may have done something wrong or against the law, but it was so much worse in reality.

Noah's parents, Sharon and Jordan, were found dead. They had been found in their house, with no visible marks on them or anything. Their heart just... Stopped. Or so it seemed.

Even though the police had no idea what happened to them, Noah certainly did. The Collective had been taunting him immediately afterwards, pointing out how they 'helped' his parents deaths. Noah felt broken, empty, and worthless. Now he knew how Milo felt... Haha..

Noah was still awake on this night, rummaging through his cabinets and grabbing whatever alcoholic beverages he saw. Sadly, he had quite a bit of strong and dangerous alcohol.

It had become a daily, almost hourly thing to do. Sitting at his table, drinking away hours of his life. He had nothing else to do. Nothing at all. He had given up entirely.  
He had broken.

Noah took one bottle of gin and sat down at his wooden table drowsily. He opened it up and drank a large portion of it in one sitting. He felt his stomach burn with pain and discomfort, as if it was telling him that is was too much. Maybe it could kill him, even.

Good. That was exactly what Noah wanted.  
Did that make him a bit suicidal? Maybe, but did he care? No.

He set the bottle down for a moment and let his hands rub his temples, trying to think clearly, but it was no use. He was practically brain dead nowadays, whether sober or drunk.

Images of those he loved flashed through his mind painfully. His mother, his father, Milo... He missed them too much to bear. He started drinking the gin that was next to him again. Maybe if he stayed wasted he could forget. Just for a few minutes.

But that didn't happen, of course. Instead, he ended up just passing out on the couch, sleep deprived and drunk. He had horrible, disgusting nightmares that he would always remember by morning. 

This one was particularly strange.

Noah's eyes opened with a snap, and he was at the very beginning of the boardwalk. Everything was dark and hard to see, but he could faintly make out the words 'START! WALKING PATH' on the billboard near the boardwalk.

He could hear a faint noise in the distance, but he had no idea what it was. So, naturally, he figured the only thing he could do was walk down the boardwalk.

His feet started moving in that direction, and he started walking briskly down the boardwalk.

Slowly he heard the noise get louder. It sounded like it was only in his head, but he could tell that he must be getting closer to the source.

As he got closer to the end, where the tower was, he could finally tell what it was.

Ticking. The ticking of a clock.

It was loud now, practically nauseating, and Noah found it hard for him to finally stumble around the corner and in front of the observation tower. 

He looked up at the top of the tower, and saw someone standing there. He couldn't see any features on them, but it looked like a man about his height. Noah tried to call out, but he couldn't speak.

Suddenly, laughter broke out. He could tell it was The Observer's menacing, demented laughter that he's heard too many times.

Static ringed in his ears, and he cried out, falling to the ground and clenching his eyes shut. It was a trap.

The laughter suddenly slowed down to a stop, and, after a long pause, he heard footsteps walking towards him. Noah could tell it was the man that was on top of the boardwalk. 

He kept his eyes shut, paralyzed in fear. The footsteps walked towards him until they finally came to a stop in front of Noah's shaking body.  
He heard the man crouch down suddenly, and he could feel eyes on him.

Nothing seemed to happen after that, really. Noah waited for something to happen, but there was nothing.

 

Suddenly, he felt himself jolt from a loud ringing noise.

 

His eyes snapped open, and he was back at his house. Someone was at his door. Mail, perhaps?  
Noah yawned and sat up, pleasantly surprised that he managed 3 hours of sleep, and rubbed his eyes. 

After waking himself up the best he could, and putting the bottle of gin on the table away, he found himself opening the front door. He didn't see anyone at the door, but when he looked down, he saw a small little package. Oh great. More packages.

He knew this couldn't be good.


	2. 2

Noah set the small package from his doorstep down onto his table, and looked at it with a bit of frustration. He didn't want to open another package, of all things. Every time he did, he would be teleported elsewhere, or learn about something horrible. 

Despite this, he didn't really have a choice. This was probably the only time of day where he was sober, so he might as well get it done now, and not later.

He sighed with a bit of a stressful tone and pulled the package close to him. He started fumbling with the tape, and with his nails he was able to slowly tear the packaging tape off. It didn't seem like the package had been sent through the mail, since there was no name or address on it, but rather dropped off on his doorstep instead. Typical.

He managed to pry the box open, and inside, there was a single item.

A clockhand, long and dainty. It looked like it was made of gold, or maybe just really shiny copper, he couldn't tell. 

Noah looked at it, confused. Why was a clockhand the only thing in this package? How could this little thing be important?

Maybe it was a lesson from Firebrand, or had some sort of symbolic meaning, but he didn't think so. He got a bit of a bad feeling from the contents of the package. It made his stomach turn, just a bit.

Why? He didn't know.

He was going to pick it up or something when he heard a small noise come from his computer. He looked, and saw that someone had sent him a message. He almost dropped his phone after reading it.

First of all, it was in all caps. Second, it was very long, with instructions. 

It was definitely from HABIT...

It read:

DEAR MR. MAXWELL,

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT YOU HAVE BECOME... STUCK, IN THE SITUATION YOU ARE IN.  
THAT'S ALRIGHT, I SUPPOSE. IT HAPPENS TO MANY PEOPLE.  
ANYWAYS, I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU. YOU KNOW THAT ONE SITE PEOPLE USE NOWADAYS? THE ONE WITH BLOGS AND SHIT? GOOD, YOU KNOW ABOUT TUMBLR. CONGRATS.  
THERE IS SOMEONE WHO USES THAT SITE AS A WAY OF KEEPING THEIR RECENT EVENTS RECORDED.  
I WANT YOU TO CONVINCE THAT PERSON TO TALK TO ME. AT ANY COSTS. LYING, INTIMIDATION, WHATEVER. I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT, I JUST WANT IT DONE.  
HIS NAME IS PATRICK. OR MICHAEL, WHATEVER. BOTH, I GUESS.  
IF YOU DO THIS, I WILL CONSIDER KEEPING SOMEONE ALIVE.  
YOU MIGHT JUST SAVE A LIFE, MAXWELL :)

REGARDS,  
THE HABIT

 

Noah stared at the message with growing concern.  
There was just no way this was happening.

No way in hell.

On the back of the note, written in shitty handwriting, was a username.

Why couldn't HABIT just... Do it himself?

Noah sighed and sat down on the couch again. 

He could do this, if it kept someone alive.

'Think about it,' Noah thought. 'It could be Vinny you're saving by doing this.'

He got his laptop and looked at the back of the note again. He sighed and opened up his browser, clearly not wanting to do this.

He typed in the strange username into the search, and tried to find this 'Patrick's' blog

He did. It didn't take long at all, in fact. Why was HABIT giving him such an easy task?

He clicked on the blog, and immediately saw that there were many entires full of detailed events. Patrick was a good storyteller, he guessed.

He shakily opened up the chatroom and tried to send him a message, but he was scared to. This was someone HABIT knew. Fucking HABIT.  
He didn't trust HABIT at all, so naturally he was afraid to meet his friends.

He had to practically wince away from the screen as he quickly typed 'Hello?' into the chat. He sent it and quickly shut the computer off.

He sighed. This might not be so easy after all.


	3. 3

 

A few hours had passed, and Noah, who decided not to drink again for the sake of knowing what he was doing, thought he should get a decent amount of sleep. The clock on his wall seemed to tick very slowly, and his surroundings were spinning from the drowsiness Noah possessed. He yawned, stretching his long, thin arms above his head for a few moments, before swinging them down to rub at his eyes. After rubbing at his temples for a moment, he got up, prepared to at least attempt resting.

But suddenly, before he could, a small ring came from his phone. Noah hesitantly looked over at it, wondering if he should even see the notification. He was worried, since Patrick was most likely a friend of Patrick, or at least the same type of entity. Noah was going to ignore it, but then, he slowly remembered that answering and responding to Patricks messages the right way could determine whether someone lives or dies. He sighed, and drowsily picked up his phone.

It was indeed a notification from 'Patrick', and Noah sighed, sitting back down on the couch with his phone. He read the two messages quietly to himself, and he reread it multiple times just because he was so on edge.

'Sorry, I happened to be busy earlier~'

'And who might you be?'

Noah wondered if he should use a fake name of sorts, in case this guy turned out to be a sicko like HABIT. Noah eventually decided against it, however, because if Patrick ended up looking at his blog, he'd see his name anyways, and Noah knew that lying usually, if not always, made things worse. Noah, shakily, entered his name, and also added in a small segment about how HABIT was involved.

Turns out, that wasn't too great of an idea. When Patrick responded a few minutes later, Noah could sense that Patrick was quickly becoming defensive.

'HABIT, eh? Well, he better not be trying to get me to talk to him again D:<'

Noah sighed, and sent back 'that's what he's doing.'

Patrick didn't respond for a bit, and Noah wondered if he scared him off. Fear rose in his chest, and he immediately felt as if he had just caused someones death. But, thankfully, after a while he got a reply.

'...Well, what's in it for you?'

Noah quickly responded, wondering if speaking of the 'life or death' situation might change his mind. 'HABIT said it might just save someone from getting killed.'

And with that, Patrick sent his final text message, almost immediately after Noah sent his response.

'Don't worry about this, Noah. He's most likely lying to take advantage of your interesting little head. You should sleep now :)'

Noah quickly looked around, realizing that Patrick might be watching him. The walls of his home suddenly didn't feel so safe, wondering if Patricks eyes were fixed opon him.He turned his phone off and quickly started heading up the stairs and into his room, not wanting to talk to this entity any longer. He was a bit freaked out already.

'Maybe tomorrow.' Noah thought, as he went into his dark, chilly room. As his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep, deep sleep. As soon as he was out, though, he was having a horrible nightmare once again.

He imagined that Patrick was a horrible, disgusting monster, with many arms, piercing red eyes, and teeth sharper than daggers. he was being chased through a snowy forest, desperately trying to escape, but he would keep tripping, and every now and then the monster would get closer.

After what felt like hours of running, Noah tripped, and fell down on his front. Noah realized that this was the end, and that he would die, but then, it hit him. The growling and snarling of the beast was gone, and everything was silent except for the occasional blow of the wind. He looked up from the snow, and saw a large, old grandfather clock, surrounded by a circle of carved out snow. He could hear ticking, like his last dream, but this time, it felt much, much worse. He could practically feel it in his head, pounding like drums. Noah shakily got up, and looked around.

He was alone.

Noah went closer to the clock, against his better judgement, and when he finally reached it, he let his head rest on the side of it. He was so.. Tired, and worn out from the running. He could feel rumbling come from the clock, and Noah assumed that it came from the ticking and the pendulum. He sighed, and closed his eyes.

Thats when he suddenly felt reality come back to him. The cold, hard wood of the clock slowly became warm and fluffy, and he felt warmth envelop him. After a few moments, he realized that he was back in his bed, in his own house, in a state that didn't even snow. It was all a dream. 

But then, he remembered that he didn't cover himself in the blankets when he went to bed. But they were definitely on him now. After a few moments of not opening his eyes or moving, he started losing the numb feeling he got when he was asleep.

Thats when he felt it. Someones hand was petting Noahs hair, and Noah knew it wasn't just the numbness fading away. Someone was in the room with him. He heard a small sigh come from next to him, and thats when his eyes flickered open. He expected to see a horrible monster, but long story short, he didn't expect to see what he did.

A man, looking around his age, was staring down at him. Noah could only see him so well because of the slight light coming from the window next to the bed. He had glittering blue eyes, dusty blonde hair and slight facial hair that was lightly growing on his upper lip. The man noticed that Noah had awoken, and before he could presumably do anything, Noah was out of the bed and back by his closet, pressed against the wall, terrified.

The man put his hands up quietly, and spoke. "It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Noah eyed him from head to toe, before suddenly realizing who it was that was standing in front of him. "P-..Patrick?"

Patrick nodded. "Hello."

Noah slipped his hand in the closet that was next to him, and pulled out a baseball bat. "D-don't come near me."

Patrick chuckles quietly, and stays put. Noah stares at Patrick for a short while, taking in the fact that he was suddenly standing in front of him. Noah scanned him, and saw that Patrick was wearing a white dress shirt and long brown dress pants, but it was hard to see in the dark of his room. Noah slowly relaxed, and asked quietly, "What.. do you want..?"

Patrick smiled. "I just wanted to say hello."

Noah let himself relax completely at those words. He was no longer afraid. Patrick seemed to notice, and he came a bit closer to the other man, making Noah suddenly get a bit tense again. But Patrick still came closer, and before Noah could comprehend it, Patrick was right in front of him. Noah, despite really wishing he didn't, blushed. he couldn't help it, Patrick looked nice. Patrick smiled, and said quietly, "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Noah stuttered as he spoke. "W-well, I don't sleep often.. B-because, uh, The Collective might c-come here.."

Patrick smiled more, and replied. "Well, I'll watch over you while you sleep then."

Noah blushed even more, and Patrick noticed quickly. "Why the red face, hm?"

Noah didn't answer, so Patrick gently led him back over to his bed. Noah stumbled a bit, and when they got to the bed Patrick gently pushed Noah onto the bed. Noah looked at him with confusion in his eyes, but Patrick didn't say another word. Instead, he merely sat down in the chair by the corner of Noahs room. Noah felt a bit safer now, even though he was in a room with a complete stranger that most likely wasn't human. He let his head sink into his pillow, and within moments, the image of Patrick was gone, and everything was black as Noah quickly fell asleep.

Patrick smiled at the sleeping Noah, and whispered to him quietly.

"Sweet dreams, darling."

 


End file.
